Obsessed
by JennyWren
Summary: A nightly meeting in Christine´s dressing room... PFN Humour Writing Contest


**Obsessed **

**Author´s note: **This story was written for the Third Humour Writing Contest on PFN.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters from "The Phantom of the Opera". They belong to Gaston Leroux / Andrew Lloyd Webber.

He was late. Once more she had to sing: "Angel of Music, hide no longer! Come to me, strange angel!". Finally the mirror slid open, revealing the man in the mask. He crossed the threshold in a most elegant way. Unfortunately he was so busy with taking in the beauty of the woman standing in front of him with an expression of utmost admiration that he didn´t notice the mirror already closing behind him. The end of his cloak got stuck in it, making him stumble. Only her quick reaction kept him from landing on the floor.

Suddenly he found himself in her arms, his face dangerously close to her chest. "I´m sorry.", he mumbled, disentangling himself from her. This was not the way he had imagined appearing to the love of his life. He was supposed to be dark and mysterious, not foolish and clumsy. Yet the woman´s face still showed the same fascination, though he could also detect a hint of a grin.

"Are you the Angel of Music? The guardian my father promised to send me? The heavenly creature who will teach me to sing?", she asked while he tried to free his cloak. "What? Oh yes, I am.", he replied, opening the cloak and letting it fall to the ground, deciding that he´d rather rip her clothes than his own. "But if you´re lucky, I´ll teach you more than just a couple of songs." He winked at her and gave what he hoped was a sexy chuckle.

Mesmerised by his rich tenor voice she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer for a searing kiss, pressing her body against his. "Where did you learn how to do that?", he wanted to know as the kiss ended and they stood in front of each other, breathing heavily.

"Does it matter now, Erik?", she whispered, her voice husky. She seized his hand and led him to the large sofa in the middle of the dressing room. "Come on!", she said. "Show me what I´ve missed in all those years of being a good girl!" "Wait a second…", he exclaimed, though a certain part of him made clear that it had waited long enough and wanted to be used at last. "Don´t you want to know anything about my tragic past or my obsession with you or my-?"

"No!", she cried, pushing him onto the sofa and climbing on top of him. "You´re a dark mysterious man who just came through my mirror. That´s all I need to know." "Well, all right.", he muttered. Somehow he had thought this would be more difficult. But he would certainly not complain about her lack of resistance. He also didn´t complain about the things her tongue was doing with his mouth… and his neck… and his shoulder. His shoulder? When had she had time to open his shirt? As she was now attacking his collar bone his hands hesitantly went into the direction of her bosom. "Oh Erik!", she moaned. This encouraged him to give a verbal response as well. "Oh Carlotta!"

She stared at him indignantly. "How did you just call me?", she hissed. "Well… Carlotta.", he admitted uneasily. "But that doesn´t matter, does it? After all, it is your name." The weight of her body started getting uncomfortable. Still he didn´t dare move. He had experienced the mood swings of his beloved very often and knew he was about to face a storm.

The woman snorted disdainfully. "Of course it is my name, just as your name is Ubaldo – outside this room.", she snapped at him. "As long as we´re in here you´re supposed to call me Christine. You´ve ruined the atmosphere!", she complained, impatiently tugging at the neckline of her dress to cover her already half-exposed breasts.

Ubaldo watched her wistfully, silently cursing himself for this faux pas. He only wanted Carlotta to be happy, and apparently he had achieved just the opposite. "Mille scusi, mia cara!", he apologised. "Maybe it just wasn´t a good idea. Your birthday will be much better than this anniversary, I promise. I could try to persuade the real Phantom to jump naked out of a cake."

At once Carlotta´s face lit up. "Do you think he´d do that?" He sighed deeply. Finally he managed to push her aside and stood up, straightening up to his less-than-imposing height. "You sound like a stupid little chorus girl!", he accused her. "This childish crush for the Opera Ghost has lasted far too long. I didn´t mind writing love letters to you in red ink and signing them ´Your obedient servant U.P.´. Wearing a fedora while we made love was actually very nice. But this leads too far!"

Carlotta used the little pause he needed to inhale to open her mouth, yet one glance at his furious face made her close it again. "Do you have any idea how much I had to give him till he allowed us to use the room and showed me how to work the mirror?", he asked. Not waiting for a reply he went on: "Let´s just say that compared to it the 20,000 francs the managers pay is a moderate sum.".

By now the shock of seeing her beloved this angry had worn off and Carlotta retorted: "Don´t act as if you didn´t enjoy it just as much as I! I noticed all those amorous glances you threw Christine during the rehearsals for ´Don Juan Triumphant´ as well as the unnecessary groping. You´d have probably made love to her on stage if the Phantom hadn´t knocked you out before.".

She jumped up from the sofa as well and glared at him. Stabbing an accusing finger into the soft flesh of his chest she said: "You´re nothing but an old… lecherous… fat man! I don´t know why I´m with you at all!". He seized her wrist in a firm grip and hissed: "Because I was the only one who wanted to take you. It is embarrassing to be around you these days. You have to understand that he´d never even notice you if you weren´t the ideal target for his jokes, Signora Toad!".

Carlotta looked at him in awe. This was the spark of the fiery lover she had missed for such a long time, the one that made her skin tingle ever more than her not-so-secret fantasies about the Phantom. If she had had any idea how erotic he was while yelling at her, she´d have provoked him much sooner. "Ubaldo…", she whispered. "Take me!" She threw herself onto him again, and they crashed to the floor.

Five minutes later, when both of them were moaning whatever name came to their mind, a knock at the door interrupted them. "Your time is up.", Raoul called impatiently, already entering the room. Glancing at him briefly Ubaldo noticed that the younger man´s cloak didn´t seem to be as long as his own. Maybe he could talk him into swapping them later. Meg was clutching Raoul´s hand, looking quite pretty in the long white dress and dark wig. ´At least I don´t make Carlotta wear a wig.´, Ubaldo thought with some satisfaction. ´There is a fine line between a crush and an obsession.´

"Would you mind waiting outside till we´re finished?", Carlotta asked, annoyed by the way Raoul was ogling her bosom. "Just give us another twenty minutes, will you?" "All right.", he agreed. "But hurry! The managers will have the room after us, and they´re always too early." Then the door closed behind them.

"I wonder if the managers will come with their wives.", the diva muttered, for a moment forgetting all about their lovemaking. Did they try to save money by using the room at the same time? "No… as far as I know there´ll be… just the two of them.", Ubaldo replied somewhat uneasily. "Oh…", she made. "Shall we continue?" He nodded and devoted his attention to the soft mounds of flesh in front of him. Thinking about the managers would certainly ruin the atmosphere, and in the next six months he wouldn´t earn enough to get the room again. He had to save money for Carlotta´s birthday.

**_The End_**


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